Her Brother's Name
by Hecate

He likes her because she's so quiet. Because she never complains. Not when he comes to her at night, sliding into her bed without a word and lets his hand travel under thin night clothes and over her skin. She doesn't say a word when his hands tighten around her wrists although it must be painful. Especially now. She's thinner these days. Her skin rougher. Like the days she spent there finally leave traces, like the reality of it would hit home now, after all the years.

He notices it but he doesn't comment. He never does. Not about the bruises, not about the scars the experiments left behind. Maybe that's the reason she lets him come to her. Maybe she likes him, too.

Or, at least he thinks she might like him. Although… he never really thinks about her that much. Not when he's away, on one of his mission or just… not really there. He even forgets completely about her when he's not around here, when he can't see her pale, thin frame. She's much too… unreal to fit into his world of… bullets, guns and knifes… But sometimes he wonders if she was always like that… If she was any different before they took her. He can't imagine her any other way. He can't see the child she must have been. Dark braids, dark eyes, playing with her brother.

Her brother. Maybe he's the reason he never really sees her. The reason why he shrieks away when his thoughts about her become too deep. Because than he sees him in her. Sees his hunted eyes in hers. They are so similar to each other, although they didn't spend much time with each other, although all they know of each other are distant memories of games and holidays and fighting parents.

It scares him, this resemblance. It scares him more than the bullets, guns and knifes. Even more than the alien that took his body and mind. Because he sees the meaning behind it. The meaning it has for him.

And she knows about it, too. Has to know it, he barely keeps it a secret anymore. He can't, not with her. He pushes it back afterwards, somewhere deep inside of him and he doesn't dare to look at it when she isn't around. She is his catalyst for these feelings, the only person he feels safe enough around to show them.

Because she's so quiet. Because she never complains. Not when he comes to her at night, sliding into her bed without a word, his hands finding their destination, his mouth on hers.

Not even when he fucks her and screams her brother's name when he comes.